Familiar Magic
by Annamonk
Summary: My offering for Tomione Day. I plan to finish it on that day. I hope you enjoy it. Later chapters will earn the M rating. Not my sandbox, I just like rearranging the grains in my own designs.
1. Chapter 1

Tom Riddle watched the seer as she shuddered and shook. She might be the most talented oracle in a thousand years, but her pain made such a talent highly undesirable. He caught odd swirling images as her powers flared and her thoughts burst free from the privacy of her own head.

A boy with glasses set slightly askew on his face with a brunette girl laughed as they ran around Hogwarts. Gryffindors. The same young woman curled into a window seat with an orange monstrosity of the feline persuasion. There were fresh tears on her face. He felt oddly uncomfortable seeing her in such a state. The next image he caught was worse. The girl writhed in pain as a witch cackled above her. He felt the darkness within him rise. Not because of the elegant ease of the crazed witch's cruciatus. No. He wanted to take that witch apart by inches, to flay her skin from her body one minuscule scrap at a time, and he wasn't quite sure why he felt anything at all. He saw the girl standing by a grave with the boy from the earlier vision, both of them emaciated. None of these images made sense, but the girl was obviously important.

He needed to find her.

Days went by. He pulled his memories of the visions and examined them in a pensieve. There was nothing to lead him to her in any of the snippets he had, and translating the prophetess' words was a frustrating experience.

He needed to move on. He'd seen a few less than savory characters watching him lately. Grindelwald wanted him to join up and play sycophant to the madman. He was not interested in following someone else's plans.

He packed his things and slipped out the back door. He was leaving. That was the plan, but something sent him stalking through the streets toward the marketplace.

He passed sellers of both the magical and the mundane. There was nothing to interest him. He felt another wizard of some darkness following him. He knew he should just go, but he turned and found himself staring at an odd assortment of magical beasts. He took a step back and started to turn away when a small ginger kitten caught his eye. It looked just like a younger version of her familiar. The kitten to her kneazle.

He bent down and plucked the beast from the small box. It purred and rubbed it's little head against his hand.

The bargaining was over quickly. Tom stroked the kitten and handed the man five sickles. The little creature was a bargain. He stroked it's small head and grinned as it bit at his fingers. Adorable and vicious.

Tom moved passed the stand and found a safe area. He grinned as the crowd filled in between his pursuer and his hiding spot.

"We need to find a new place, Ginger Snap." Tom grinned down at the cat's defiant face and apparated them to his next destination.

* * *

Hermione wiped her tears away. Crooks had finally passed. She'd known it was coming for months, but there was nothing to be done. He was old. There were potions that would extend his life for a few bitter weeks, but she simply hadn't had the heart to make him suffer so she could have a few more days.

Pain and loss were the themes of her life now. The war was over, but it's damages lingered on. They had lost so much in the war. Harry was a shell of a man, and Ron was trapped in his family's sorrow. Her own body seized frequently from the remnants of Bellatrix's magic.

She rested her head back against the couch back and wished for all the things she would never have. More time with her Crookshanks. So many people alive and well. A world that wasn't destroyed. She blinked rapidly and felt the heat of her tears roll down the sides of her face and into her hair.

* * *

Tom looked at the small kneazle mix. It was a bandy legged thing that never stopped. The kitten routinely brought in prey much larger than expected. It was a fierce little creature. He felt himself smile as he watched the beast scamper across the floor of the small cabin. He took a deep breath and looked down at his notes again. The spell was a complicated mess, but he was certain it would work. The book on Familiar Magic had been quite the find.

He cast the circle and smiled as the ginger kitten took its place. The chanting was a bit of a bother, but old magics seemed to work best with repeated droning. Tom felt his magic flow out and search for its goal. The pull was painful, but he reveled in it. Magic should have a cost. He grimaced as he felt foreign magic fight against him. The beast stamped his little paw on the ground and the whole world seemed to shake.

Tom gasped as his magic started flying back toward him at incredible speed. The spell was riding him now. He gulped and tried to regain control, but he failed.

A shower of golden light filled the space between the feline and his own knees. The temperature dropped quickly and then soared. He shook and had to fight to keep his eyes open. The lights began to swirl into a human shape. She writhed and twisted as her body coalesced in the circle.

He took a deep breath as his magic returned to him. He fought up to his knees and crawled toward her unmoving form. She was breathing. He could see that. Her wild hair was still sparking with energy, but it didn't bother him. He collapsed next to her and pulled her into his arms. The kitten settled next to her on the other side. He felt it's soft fur against his fingers as he drifted off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione stared blankly at the paper. Her kittenish familiar was rhythmically digging into her thighs with his little needle sharp claws. The pain kept her grounded.

She wasn't dreaming.

She wasn't insane.

There was no mistake.

This wasn't a nightmare.

She glanced over at her captor. Was captor the right word? He hadn't meant to drag her back through time. He'd wanted to meet her. It had been simple in his mind. He wanted, and, so it should be.

Three days ago, she awakened on the floor with kitteny Crookshanks on one side of her and a future dark lord on the other. Tom Riddle had introduced himself with a quick smile. He'd been charming, but not apologetic. He gave no thought to the life from which he'd pulled her. It had been an empty, hopeless husk of a life, but he had no way of knowing that.

She'd studied his spell and the book he'd used to engineer the magic. It was quite a feat. She was impressed by the intuitive leaps he'd made in designing the spell. She'd felt guilty for admiring him. She'd felt horrible about it, but he was brilliant.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek and considered him. He wasn't the young man embarking on his quest for world domination. He was a man. His dark hair was trimmed and neat. He was clean shaven. He looked urbane, and though his clothes were dated by her standards, in the wizarding world, he was actually very stylish. He smiled easily and with his eyes. He wasn't some innocent on the cusp of a bad mistake. She knew that. The man was already a murderer. He'd actually killed multiple times at this point in his life. Knowing all of that didn't change the facts though. He was very much a human at this point. He liked his tea over sweet and his biscuits on the plain side. He was damnably intelligent and incapable of reigning in his impulses. His mind was facile and fascinating, but it didn't change things. He was on his way to becoming a monster.

She'd seen pictures of the boy and faced down the thing into which he evolved, but here was the man in his prime. Overly gifted, completely self assured, and he was beautiful as well. So beautiful.

She bit her lower lip and glanced at him through the thick fringe of her lashes. He wasn't watching her. He was reading a section of the paper. It was all very domestic. She looked down at the table where her plate still sat adorned with crumbs. He'd bought pastries for her. She'd mentioned liking She was fairly certain he hadn't made them, and there wasn't an elf anywhere nearby.

She glanced back at him. He'd made two maybe three horcruxes at this point. She'd assumed that would show, that the evil would be easy to see, but it wasn't. He seemed more self indulgent than evil. There was no sign of the insanity that defined his actions later in life.

He was brilliant and so beautiful.

She was trapped in the past with a man that was no longer Tom Riddle but had yet to become Lord Voldemort. She had never considered how he had changed. She saw his lips curve a second before his eyes met hers. This man was Lord Riddle.

"We are going on an outing. I've acquired some appropriate attire for you." He smiled as she blushed. "Not that your dungarees aren't perfectly charming."

"Where are we going?" Hermione stroked Crooks tiny body for comfort.

"I thought you might enjoy seeing some sights." He stood and stepped next to her. She bent her neck back to stare up at him. "Ginger Snap will be fine for a few hours. He seems to be quite the competent fellow."

"Crookshanks is still a kitten." She glanced down at the kitten and rubbed under his chin with her finger.

"He will be fine. I've charmed his bowls to stay full and the litter box is self cleaning." Tom curled a finger under her chin and tilted her eyes back to his. "I know you have things to tell me. I don't want to force them from you. You will come to me soon enough."

She swallowed down the myriad of vile things she wanted to say. This man was not what she expected, but she didn't need to push her luck. She looked at his knowing grin and took a deep breath. This man was not a dark lord.

"You should prepare for the day." He smiled at her again. "I think you will enjoy it."

He left her there at the table. She plucked Crooks up from her lap and headed to her room. She needed time to think.

Lord Riddle was not what she had been led to believe. She bit her lower lip and pulled it over her bottom teeth. This man was patient and relaxed. There was a great deal of power in him, but he didn't use it needlessly.

He wasn't pragmatic. The cabin was richly appointed and filled with odd treasures. He wasn't driven. He preferred to live on his own terms. He liked the finer things and wasn't the kind to wait for something.

He was not the man that rose to power and ripped her world apart. He was powerful enough, but something was missing. He wasn't Voldemort.

Crooks settled on her pillows and pulled her focus down to the clothing.

She tucked herself into the floral dress. It had no give and she had to make a few minor adjustments to the garment. Her modern undergarments didn't create the appropriate silhouette. She glanced at the mirror. It wasn't a huge thing, but she could make out enough. She looked almost like her grandmother had as a young woman. Her hair didn't fit. It was too wild for the time. She yanked it back into a simple bun and frowned. She still looked to be playing dress up. There was no help for it. She glanced at her scars and yanked a white sweater from her purse. It was simple enough to blend in and hid the worst of it. She cast a few spells to make the heeled sandals he'd provided comfortable and stalked from the room.

* * *

Tom didn't like the sweater. He wanted to show her off as much as he wanted to show off for her, but forcing her to leave it behind would not be worth the battle. She was a fierce little thing.

In the few days she'd been his guest, he'd watched her rage and fight against the reality of her new world. It had been disturbing. Doubt had creeped in for the first time in many years. He'd spent the second night listening to her tears through the door he'd learned to hate. Her wards were perfect and complicated. He could have forced them down, but she'd have known.

She'd have known, and he wasn't sure of his welcome.

It was unusual. He'd never cared for the attentions of any witch. They served a purpose. He never imagined finding one that could fire his passions and ensnare his mind, and he never respected another's skill with a spell like he respected hers.

He had expected a quick encounter, but she wasn't a witch he could easily discard. He'd pulled her back from a future he was fairly certain did not match his plans. Her knowledge could help him. There was time to indulge himself.

He held out his arm and smiled when she slid her delicate hand into the crook. She didn't tremble or try to close the light distance between them. Her sense of decorum wouldn't allow her to be so vulgar. He covered her hand with his and apparated them to one of his favorite places.

Magical Rome was spread about the city in little pockets. Stores and restaurants were scattered amongst them, but the Praetorium Cultus had none. Active temples that had existed since well before Christ shared the space. Gods and goddesses abandoned by muggles were honored here. It was a place of power.

He heard her draw in a deep breath. This was not a place for tourists, and she knew it. He felt her fingers tighten against his arm. He glanced at her and saw the flush of it in her cheeks. She was glorious as she experienced the call.

"I have nothing to give them." She bit into her lower lip.

"Only a few require more than a simple gift." He let her hand slip from his grasp. "A tear, a hair, a simple prayer is usually all you need."

Hermione moved with grace down the wide corridor. Her eyes traced over each doorway. He could see her curiosity. She paused by the arch that led into Vesta's temple for a moment before moving forward once more.

She stopped and looked back at him before slipping into Minerva's temple. He watched from the main chamber as she knelt and before the statue of goddess. Vesta and Minerva, hearth and wisdom. He nodded.

Women valued a steady home, but this witch held knowledge in greater esteem. Bringing her here had given him the insight he'd sought. He waited patiently as she completed her prayers.

Hermione emerged from the temple with a frown. He held out his arm, but she held up her hand and turned. He saw her eyes lock on the temple of Mithras.

"Only warriors are permitted within." He moved to stand beside her. "There are wards that keep all others out."

"You can't get in there can you?" She smirked.

"The only acceptable offering in that temple is blood."

Hermione shrugged and strode in. The wards shimmered with a flash of gold as she passed through them. He saw her approach the altar, saw her kneel, and saw her cut into her hand with a flick of her wand.

She pressed her bleeding hand to the altar and bowed her head in silence. The torches burned brighter within the temple. He could see swirls of golden light dance about her.

The world shifted around him as he watched her. This was no bit of fluff to enjoy and dismiss. He took a deep breath. Getting what he needed from her was going to be much harder than he had originally imagined.

When she emerged, he could see the golden wash of her power. Mithras had honored her with a blessing, but she wasn't smiling. He wanted to quiz her, to dissect her experience.

"You were blessed." He smiled at her hoping to open a dialogue.

"I can only hope that my prayers were worthy." Hermione shrugged. "You've brought me to Rome. You must have a few more stops on your list."

He held out his arm again and she slid into place next to him. He took a moment to gather the necessary focus and whisked them off to a small café. Perhaps food would loosen her tongue.

* * *

Hermione hid her grin by sipping at her espresso. Tom's obvious frustration was wonderfully amusing. His gorgeous smile wasn't flashing her way so easily now. His eyes narrowed whenever she bothered to speak.

"This is a lovely place." Hermione lowered her demitasse cup to its saucer.

"It's acceptable." He shrugged and looked out over the crowd. "Rome is fairly safe. Grindelwald's thugs don't like to venture into the muggle crowds, and the limited public apparition points make things difficult."

"Is that why you keep scanning the crowd?" She frowned and set her free hand on her wand.

"They've been trying to force me to a meeting with their lord for months." He rolled his eyes. "He seems to think I should bend a knee."

"He's a fool." Hermione shook her head. "His ideals are ridiculous."

"Blood purity?" Tom quirked a brow. "It seems to be his driving mania."

"It isn't yours?" Hermione sat back and tilted her head.

"I worked for a blood bigot. As a half blood, he felt justified in humiliating me at every turn." Tom's lips twisted with obvious distaste. "My bloodlines are good enough to befriend, my power strong enough to seduce, but my mom muggle contamination made me unpalatable to my girlfriend and her family. Cassiopeia I,ABlack would rather stay alone than risk breeding anything less than pure."

"They take that family motto seriously." Hermione sighed.

"Yes, they do." He scanned the crowd again. His agitation seemed to grow with each passing moment. "I worked hard to emulate in school. Made a few mistakes. It took watching her stand aside as her father cruciated me to break me of it."

Hermione examined her plate. She couldn't figure out how this man had become the monster of her youth. The pieces of his puzzle didn't fit into the picture Dumbledore had painted. Not that she put much store in Dumbledore's opinions. He thought that children were tools and everyone was expendable in his mad quest to fix the world.

She glanced to the side and saw a thin man scratch his arm.

It was an arm decorated with the mark of the Hollows. She remembered Victor's reaction to the mark, remembered that Grindelwald had used it as his mark. Goddess above, they needed to get moving.

"Put some money down on the table and let's head out to look at the fountain." She glanced toward the structure. "May I have a couple of knuts to throw in it?"

Tom handed her the coins as they left. She slid them in between the muggles and kept her eyes locked on the fountain. It wasn't the Trevi, so it didn't draw huge crowds. It would serve her well enough. She charged the coins with small explosive curses that would cause a distraction and allow them to escape.

"When I say, you have to apparate us away from here." She squeezed his arm. "I know we can't get out of the city from here, but they may have hit us with a tracking spell. I don't have time to check here. Take us to another touristy sight. The more muggles the better. I spent the better part of my childhood concealing myself and slipping out of traps, so don't argue."

Tom looked down at her with narrowed eyes before he nodded. It was good that he could be so reasonable. She took a deep breath and tossed the coins. She watched as they seemed to fly through the air in slow motion, glinting as the sun danced on their edges.

Three.

Two.

One.

"Now." She squeezed Tom's arm and readied her wand. The sudden pull of their trip was welcome. She blinked up at the Coliseum for a moment before she started scanning her companion for tracking spells. It was easier to think of him like that because running with Voldemort instead of from him was too bizarre to contemplate.

She grimaced when she found three tracking spells. They were complex and difficult to break. She needed time. She needed a safe place to unravel those bloody spells.

* * *

Tom forced his mind to focus. He followed her through the former arena. She was counting the seconds out loud as they ran. He frowned and trotted along beside her. She laced their fingers together.

The sudden pop of their pursuers arrival ended her countdown. She looked at him and smiled.

"Now." He centered himself and dragged them through space and time to Castel San Angelo. It wasn't as filled with people, but it provided cover for her to work.

"Count." She ordered as she went to work on the tracker. "I need to know how long we have."

He took up the count in the tenth second to be sure they were safe. Her magic brushed against him and caused a comfortable but note worthy tingle in his skin.

When she flicked her wand, he felt his own magic rise to greet hers. He blinked and lost count. His magic wasn't protecting him.

He felt a pulse of fear as she grinned up at him.

"One down." She smacked his arm lightly. "You have to pay attention to the counting. Let's go. The next one won't take this long."

He swallowed and turned his mind to the Trevi fountain. It was a crowded place even in war time. Perhaps because of the muggle war. Wishes. He glanced down at the witch and pulled them away.

He started counting as they landed. She grinned and nodded at him with approval. Her eyes darted around, assuring herself that they were protected from prying eyes.

She dropped to her knees.

It took a concerted effort to count as he felt her fingers unbuckle his belt.

"I hope this wasn't a real favorite." She grinned at him and transformed the belt into a snitch. "It won't last long, an hour at best, but it should get some distance and draw off some of our pursuers."

He watched the toy disappear down the street with a metallic flash and smiled. Gods, she was clever.

He grabbed her hand and smiled at her before winging them away to Hadrian's Villa. It was a bit off the beaten path, but it gave her the needed time to divest him of the last tracking spell.

"Take us to one more mostly muggle place. If they don't show up, we can head home." She flicked her wand at their clothes and improved their appearance. "People don't run around looking rumpled and dirty."

He patted her hand and took her to the Spanish Steps. They walked up the steps and enjoyed a moment of relief when their pursuers did not appear.

He covered her hand with his own as they strolled. Her skin was warm under his. He watched her as she studied their surroundings avidly. The witch's mind never stopped. It was wonderful to find another with a questing mind.

"We should go." She squeezed his arm. "They might happen upon us."

"There is no accounting for luck." He nodded and pulled them into a darkened doorway, tossed up a mild notice me not, and apparated them to the closest site with an open apparition point.

"The Pantheon?" Hermione glanced at the large structure with wide eyes. "They hid the approved exit point here?"

"You can exit from the Praetorium Cultus as well, but they might have traced us back. I thought this would be the better choice." He smiled down at her, enjoying her appreciation of the grandeur of their surroundings. It would be amusing to see the world through her eyes.

They stepped into the building and felt the wards snap down behind them. His choice had led them straight into a trap. He could pull the wards down, but it would take too much time. Eight wizards approached them.

"Grindelwald liked traps and less intelligent minions. He didn't want to catch us with the trackers. They were his back up. They were supposed to drive us here." Hermione nodded. "They won't expect much from me. I'm just a poor little witch caught up in their plans for you. We can do this."

There was no doubt his companion was a Gryffindor. She was all fire and courage. He pushed her behind him more for show than protection.

He would have gone with them if he'd been alone, but he'd seen the scar on her arm when he'd brought her to this time. She'd never survive what they would do to her. She was hiding it under sweaters and long sleeves, but those weren't enough protection.

"You're going to fight?" The obvious leader frowned. "We would have let the bit of muslin go."

"Bit of muslin?" Her outrage was a palpable thing. "What century did they drag you out of?"

He felt her magic swirling and seeming to expand. She held it all in. Most didn't bother. Most didn't have the kind of power she did. He let his own slip free.

"Wait for it." She whispered despite the muffliato she'd cast. "The first two to hex are their decoys. The third bloke will be the best fighter. Take him down hard. No mercy, but don't kill him unless it's your only option. A wound might make his companions take care of him."

"How can you be so sure?" Tom watched the group as they fanned out.

"It's logical. It's also what they teach in battle strategy at Durmstrang." She shrugged.

The first curse was a weak thing, more flash than power. He let her deflect the second one, and watched the men arrayed around them. The third hex hit his shield with shattering power.

Hermione moved from behind him. He fought the urge to protect her. She had been blessed by the deity of warriors. Her hexes flew faster than his. Accuracy and a certain gleeful spite defined her. He'd thought she was quietly pretty, but she was beautiful in the quick flash of hex fire. She cast a shield of bluebell flames around them and pressed her back to his.

He could feel each panting breath she took. She vanished the sweater and transformed her dress and his clothing into some form of leather armor. Her magic wrapped around him and held him to her.

"They're damn good." She didn't seem scared. "He makes sure his soldiers are well trained, but they aren't thinkers. They didn't assign someone to revive the fallen. I hope they tried when I set this up."

"Why?" He didn't like not knowing the answer.

"I layered those hexes with a rebound curse. If they try to revive the ones I took down, there won't be many left." She chortled. "I want you to call Crookshanks by name from now on."

He blinked at her sudden change of topic.

"I call the feline by his name." Tom took a deep breath and smelled her, exotic spices mixed with the floral smelling bath products he'd aquired. "Ginger Snap seems fitting."

"The flames will die in three, two, one." She was firing curses before the fire was completely gone. He felt her magic, the lightness of it the fire of it. His own melded with it, and their spells flew faster and stronger the battle was over in seconds. Eight bodies lay sprawled around them.

"Grindelwald will kill them, so leave them be." She grabbed his arm. "We're leaving."

"The apparation point is over there." He gestured with his wand.

"Yeah, we're not going through there. There are ways to trace the destination from official sites." Hermione shook her head. "The wards are weak here. I'll force us through them."

He felt her power yank him away, twisting them through a tighter swirl of nothingness and dropping them into a woodsy place. Before he could catch his breath she jerked them into the back row of a theatre. They were off again and again until he couldn't imagine where they would be next. He was fairly certain they'd been on the Tower of London with the damn birds. She squeezed his hand and he felt the tug take them again.

Hermione wobbled as he spun and took in the welcome sight of his cottage. Nausea was his closest companion. He considered kissing the earth and swearing off all forms of magical travel. He turned in time to see her collapse and heard the hiss of her familiar as it bounded toward them.

"Fine. Let's take a nap in the front garden." He knelt beside her and checked her over for injuries but found none. She was just exhausted.

Her kitten crawled up onto her chest and stared balefully at him. The familiar would have to learn to share. He was going to keep them both even if it meant making some ridiculous concessions.

"Crookshanks."

* * *

Author's Note - It's Tomione Day.

This was supposed to be finished here. It's a fair place to end the story. Hermione even won the battle. She isn't aware of that and Tom isn't likely to admit it any time soon. The problem is that this story grew legs and started running. There is more to it. I've even got notes for future chapters.

So, I'm leaving it up to my readers. If you liked it and want some more, let me know in the review. I'll decide based on your response.

Thanks for taking the time to read my story.


	3. Chapter 3

Tom watched as the kitten stalked the tiny stuffed snake that Hermione had transfigured from a piece of string and charmed for her beast's amusement. She wasn't going to like what he had to say. She hadn't liked much since Rome.

He understood her questions and her issues, but her endless research was not yielding anything of interest. He turned and glared at the top of her head. Her eyes were glued to the page.

"It's not polite to stare, Tom." Hermione flipped the page without looking up. "Try clearing your throat if you want my attention."

"Or I could transfigure your book into a lion and enjoy the chaos." He frowned until she looked up at him. "I understand that you have a theory. Are you ready to share?"

"I can't tell you." She twisted her ink stained fingers into her hair. "The future..."

"Your future is gone." He knew he sounded cold, but it had been days of this frenetic nonsense. "This is all sound and fury."

"Signifying nothing." Hermione slumped in her chair. "I destroyed my world."

He sat back. This wasn't like her, and he didn't like it. She didn't accept defeat. She fought.

"You've made Grindelwald's most wanted list. Leaving those men alive didn't serve us." Tom frowned severely. "He may want you more than me now."

She pushed away from the table. There was no outward sign of distress, but her familiar abandoned his game and moved toward her. She scooped up the kitten and retreated to her room.

The urge to rip the room apart and yank down her wards was growing every day, but it wouldn't serve his long term goals. He clenched his fists. Some things were more important than immediate satisfaction.

The thunder rumbling in the background drew his attention away from ripping her door from its hinges.

* * *

There was nothing left. Her future was gone. No way to get back to it. She felt her magic crackle through her body. It was unpleasant at best, and he could read her agitation. She knew he was watching her, seeing her break. Of course, standing outside in the freezing rain while all but howling at the moon wasn't helping.

She couldn't step aside and let the world burn, but what was she supposed to do?

What was the right thing?

Did it bloody matter?

Had fate dumped her here with no ideas and directions?

It would be so easy to kill him, but she had no chance against Grindelwald without him.

She paced through the mud, sending little globules flying from her legs with every stride. She turned her mind to the future.

Stopping Dumbledore was a necessity.

Stopping Grindelwald was a close second.

Stopping that brilliant man inside from turning into a monster might be possible. She pushed her sodden hair off the back of her neck and rubbed at the knot there.

She wanted to sink into the mud and let it pull her under, but she couldn't. The right thing wasn't an option. There was no right thing to do in this situation.

There were options. None of them were wonderful, but they existed. In a three horse race, she had to choose the winner. She had to choose which horse to ride.

How did one go about selecting a psychopath to align with?

Because childhood rhymes aside, she was going to have a tiger by the tail no matter what choice she made.

Of course, Crooks had an opinion. She looked in the window, and saw Tom watching her with his precious Ginger Snap curled on his arm like a Bond villain with a ginger fetish. He was too good looking to be the cliched bad guy in those films.

She screamed up at the sky. The lightening flashed above her, and she fell to her knees.

She'd changed things. Tom would have gone to Grindelwald, but she made him fight. Whatever happened at that meeting set the path that led to Voldemort. She dragged a breath in.

The future was being rewritten.

There was a lot of work to do.

She forced herself up out of the mud and turned toward the cottage. This was home. Her future was with Tom. She swallowed down the hysterical laughter and opened the door.

"So, you're ready to tell me about my future." He smiled and flicked his wand restoring her to cleanliness.

"How many horcruxes have you made at this point?" She raised a brow at him. His jaw flexed. She hadn't expected an answer.

She looked away and pulled her clean jumper off. It was too large and she might need to move without it hampering her if the next few minutes didn't go as planned. The chances that he would try to kill her seemed fairly high.

She turned toward him again and smiled. His obvious discomfort with her state of undress just made it easier to smile that smile. She knew it wasn't her nice smile. It was the one she'd learned from her time under Bellatrix's wand. It was the one that proclaimed how quickly she could kill and how little she cared if she did. It was the one that sent hardened aurors running for cover.

Tom studied her. He nodded slightly. The flash of curiosity in his eyes wasn't a surprise.

She knew that he was aware of her as a woman. Those moments in Rome when his hands had settled on her gave that away even in this repressed time period.

He needed to get to know the warrior. She dropped her easiest glamours. His eyes traced over each scar as it appeared. She took her time pulling back the spells slowly. It was a disturbing sort of striptease.

She finished with the minor ones. The small scar on her shoulder where the dragon scale had cut her as they escaped from Gringots was the last of those. He took a deep breath. She wanted to see his face clearly, but looking at him while she let these last few spells go would be impossible.

She let the one protecting the horrid scar from Dolohov drop and heard his breath catch. He couldn't see it all. Her camisole kept most of it hidden, but enough was revealed.

"It's not my worst." She shrugged and ignored the urge to cover herself. "You live through a war and it leaves some marks. Do you want to see the worst of it or should I stop now?"

She knew the answer, but she watched him closely. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He took a deep breath.

"I've seen them. When you first arrived..."

She shook her head and let the last of her glamours fall in rapid succession. After all, it had all happened in one endless afternoon. She lifted her chin so he could see the silver white line that crossed her neck clearly. He'd pulled her back from her time. He deserved to appreciate his handmaiden's handiwork. She saw his eyes trace the word on her arm and felt an odd surge of satisfaction.

"I can't show you the worst of it. Not really." She walked toward him. She could see him assess her easy stance and fighting calm. He didn't back up, but something flickered in his eyes. She knew that reaction. Making the Dark Lord nervous was almost fun.

"Those scars aren't physical." She twisted her hair up and stabbed her wand through the mass to hold it in place. "I can't explain about my truncated childhood, the constant fear, the desperation. None of it would be real for you. I could show you my memories, but you are a grown man. You would experience it from that point of view."

"I do see the difficulties." Tom looked at her with that careful expression, the one he used to hide his irritation.

"You want to see what you become?" Hermione shook her head. "I'm fairly certain you don't. It isn't pretty."

"Pretty is a woman's word." Tom smirked. "How bad could it be?"

"Your body was destroyed. Your sanity was gone before that point if my theory is correct. The servant that brought you back was not particularly clever or powerful. He'd spent more than a decade living as a rat. It may have impacted his abilities." She shrugged. "You can back as a thing. Not a man. Your beauty was gone. All you had was power, but it wasn't enough. We did stop you."

"You fought against me?" He leaned against his chair back and looked her over again.

"I fought against what you were then." She took a deep breath. "You were trying to eradicate the muggleborn. I didn't have much choice. You weren't the man that you are now."

* * *

Tom stared at the ceiling. He'd become an insane monster with political views that were repugnant and no nose. He shouldn't have forced her to show him. He'd been better off imagining it.

She had theories, but he hadn't wanted to discuss them.

She had plans, but he couldn't consider them.

She had held his hand for a moment after revealing everything to him, and he hadn't ever wanted to let go.

He took a deep breath. He'd work with her if it meant she'd stay. He'd listen to her theories and plans and adjust them if they needed refinement. His own plans could wait.

Being honest with her about the status of his soul would prove a challenge. He'd realized too late that the splitting of his soul was problematic. The horcruxes retained his attitudes at the time he'd made them. The diary proved that. He'd been such a prat as a teenager.

He could try to reassemble his soul. He'd studied the process, but it seemed like a difficult process with little reward. Keeping his body young and powerful seemed like a better plan at this point.

The door creaked open and he saw Hermione outlined by the lights in the hall.

"Are you okay?" He could hear the trepidation in her voice.

"I will be, but I need time to think." He pushed up onto his elbows and examined her silhouette.

"I'll leave you be." She nodded her head.

"I'd rather you didn't." He licked his lips. "I promise to be a gentleman, but I could use a hand to hold at the moment."

She was across the room in five strides. He heard her shoes hit the floor as the bed dipped. She curled on her side facing him and laced her fingers with his. She was warm. He could feel the heat of her as he settled to face her.

The lights from the hall gave her the tiniest bit of definition in the shadows. She was beautiful beyond her physical presence. The beast curled up between their feet.

He took another deep breath.

This would have to be accounted for in their future plans. Their plans. He stroked her hair back with his free hand. She was a Gryff, a risk taker. Was their a bigger risk to take than facing life with him?

"Stop thinking." Hermione rubbed her thumb on his hand. "Be here now. We can deal with all the rest later."

"So, there will be a later." Tom studied her face for any indication of what that might mean.

"There's a later." She wiggled her torso across the divide between them and rested her head under his chin. "We have time to work it all out."

He stroked her back with his free hand. This position was awkward, but her familiar was acting as chaperone, so it would have to do. The feline purred, and he struggled to understand why holding this witch made him feel better.

* * *

Author's Note - The story continues. Thank you so much for your wonderful response to this one. It means so much to me.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione took a deep breath and held it in her lungs. She charged it with her magic imagining each molecule of air carrying a spell. It was a complicated concept and an area of magic that had gone largely unexplored once wizard kind became dependent on wands. She let her magic surge up and expelled her breath in a giant push watching as a rainbow of butterflies burst out of her exhale and flew about before disappearing into the forest.

"While that was quite pleasing to the eye, I doubt Grindelwald will believe intimidated by flying insects." Tom smirked at her from his perch on their porch railing. "The man is rather hard to impress."

Hermione glared at him. No matter how shaken he was the night before, he was back to usual form with the dawn. He couldn't seem to help being the biggest git in the world.

"You're an arse." Hermione flicked her fingers at Tom's tea and pulled the liquid up transforming it into different items as it rose. Leaves and acorns swirled up above him, apples circled round his head, and bits of fire danced just beyond his reach.

"I may be an arse, but I know you can do better than flickers and fruit." Tom set his cup down and stalked toward her. "You called my tea to you and transfigured it. It was beautiful and quite a display of skill. I'm impressed, but pretty only gets you so far. We are talking about bearding the lion in his den. Grindelwald won't fall back from your pretty little shows of skill. You are a warrior. I know it, and so do you. Quit playing."

She eyed him and pulled the earth beneath him away with the wave of her hands. He stumbled and fell to his knees. She pushed the earth back over his legs and hardened it to stone all without her wand. She closed the distance between them and cupped his cheeks, running her thumbs gently under his eyes.

"Your right." She smirked. "I'm a warrior. I spent years learning to be better than anyone that wanted to kill me or mine. I assure you, I learned my lessons well. Now, I find myself here, calling you mine, the man that created those killers I defeated."

She watched as his pupils dilated, felt his breath quicken, and caught the odd quiet in his magic. There were so very many ways to be a warrior. She licked her lips and considered if it was time to lay siege.

"I will play with all the pretty things that I want." Hermione slid one hand down his smooth cheek and settled it tight against his throat. "You need to remember that beautiful things can be deadly."

She grinned as he tried to nod. His magic swirled out and wrapped around them both. She felt the power of it and reveled for a moment that she'd intimidated him enough to inspire this. She slammed her mouth down onto his. It was a violent battle of teeth, tongue, and lips. She tightened her grip on his throat and pushed him back to drag air into her lungs.

"You really are quite beautiful." Hermione eased her hand off his throat. "I just never imagined spending my life trapped in a battle of pain and power with my partner."

She turned away and wiped at her moist eyes. She twitched her fingers and set him free. Her point had been made well enough.

Tom's magic surged and he was suddenly at her back. He circled her waist with one arm and pressed her back against his body. His free hand traced along her clavicle in a teasing way.

"I live in this forest for a reason." Tom pressed a small kiss behind her ear. "It's safe. It's quiet. It's easy to conceal my little home here. It's a tactic, but it's also necessary. I need a place to be centered and calm. I need a place where I can admire butterflies."

Hermione tried to move, but he gathered her closer to his body. There was an alluring strength in him. He was so much more than his magic. She trembled as he cupped her throat and gently angled her neck for a series of tiny kisses. The warmth of his body against hers was enticing. She tried to turn again, but he held her caged against his body.

"I want soft things with you." Tom pressed his lips against her neck again. "I want to touch you gently. It doesn't always have to be about the struggle."

He continued telling her about all the delicious things he wanted for them. The moist heat of his breath on her skin was a seduction of its own. His words tumbled through her mind. They were perfect, too perfect. He meant to seduce her, to entice her. She pressed back against his frame and let her mind rest.

They would have this.

Tom would be soft and beautiful for her. She'd have her butterflies, or at least the illusion of them. She wasn't good at lying to herself. She knew what he was.

Two horcruxes.

She shivered as his teeth slid along her shoulder pushing her shirt to the side. He rubbed his cheek against the curve of her shoulder. His freshly shaved skin slid along hers with a tiny hint of abrasion. She swallowed down the moan pressing up from her diaphragm. He feathered kisses back up to the tender spot right behind her ear.

"I'm deadly. I'm violent. I'm a dark mirror." He bit into her earlobe without breaking the skin. "With you, I'll be beautiful and generous. I'll be soft and kind."

"When it suits you." Hermione sighed.

"Yes." He smiled against her neck. She could feel his lips curving against her skin. "When it suits me, but I'll always be yours just as you'll always be mine."

"We will defeat Grindelwald and deal with Dumbledore." She twisted her head to the side and looked at him from the side her eye. "There are some people I want to have good lives. You won't interfere."

"You can have your people. Not as partners, but I understand that you will need friends." He gripped her shoulder and spun her to face him. "I won't hurt them so long as they are only friends."

"No more horcruxes." Hermione stared right into his eyes. "You have to promise me."

"No more horcruxes." Tom nodded. "I will not make them, but you mustn't destroy the ones I have. I know you will eventually plan to kill me. You still see me as a monster, but time will show you that I am not."

"If, when, I die, you must care for the people on my list. You must make sure they have happy lives." She blinked back the tears that flashed to the surface so quickly at the thought of Harry. "I'll leave your bloody horcruxes alone then."

"I promise to care for your friends even if you are no more." Tom stroked a hand up her side and settled it just under her breast. "Are we done negotiating?"

Hermione examined him through narrowed eyes. He had somehow wrested control of this from her. She bit her lip and tried to figure out where things had gone so drastically wrong.

* * *

Tom managed to hide his grin as Hermione studied him. He'd been working on a binding spell since the day she'd arrived. Standard spells were all well and good, but they didn't go deep enough. The darker spells required subjugation, and, while that appealed in some ways, he wanted her to be at his side.

He hadn't expected her to give into his goading quite this quickly, but it did make things easier.

He enjoyed feeling her breath, the beat of her racing heart, and the weight of her breast on his hand. He closed his eyes and pushed his palm just a bit higher. The smooth, silky fabric of her brassiere enticed even as it irritated.

He didn't like boundaries.

Hermione didn't care for them either. She might defend them, but in reality, she was as rebellious as he. She'd carry on about right and wrong. She was rather devoted to her moral compass, but that wasn't a bad thing. He needed that check, though he was loath to admit it.

Some things came too easily. Some things seduced and enticed but offered nothing of value. Hermione seemed to have an inborn sense of such things.

He looked down into her eyes, and put aside his logical exercises. He didn't need excuses to include her in his life. Everything from the moment he'd first seen her in that oracle's vision had led him to this moment. He let his hand trail down her side and rested his fingertips at the waistband of her dungarees. He saw her pupils widen, heard her quick inhalation. He almost wished they had time to draw this out. The agony of a proper courtship would have driven them both to the edge of sanity, but there would have been more of this, this wonderful moment of anticipation.

He licked his own lips. He couldn't help it, seeing her like this, open and questioning, with the full force of her power at her beck and call, was delightful. He let his fingers drop and captured her hands. Bringing them both up to his lips, he kissed them while never breaking eye contact with her.

"I know this wasn't what you had planned for your life." He pulled her hands down and linked them, left to left and right to right, in a loose approximation of the eternity symbol. "I never imagined the trauma my spell caused you, but I will not apologize."

"I'm not sure I'd believe you if you did." Hermione's smile did not reach her eyes. She was forthright and honest for the most part. It would be interesting to see if she changed over time. He found himself hoping oddly that she wouldn't.

He took a deep breath and let his magic out to play. He felt the circle close and started to chant in parseltongue. He heard her gasp as the skin of their palms split. The blood welled up and dripped to the ground beneath their hands. She yanked against him, but the magic held them now. Their hands were fused until it finished. He continued his chant, and ignored her screaming and her anger. She twisted and tried to throw him from her. He tumbled to the ground and she landed on his chest, knocking the wind from his lungs.

She started casting. Flares of light and magic carved into their flesh. When she started the incantation to amputate her hands, he rolled her under him and shoved their joined hands against her mouth. She immediately sank her teeth into him.

"It's done, Hermione." He took a deep breath as she struggled. "You're just delaying the inevitable. I designed the spell. It will work. The more harm you do to us, the longer it will take us to face Grindelwald."

She spat his flesh out and turned her head away from him. He could see the tears tracking from her eyes into the dirt. An odd regret rose within him.

"You can't force a bonding." She shoved him back and struggled to her knees. "Your magic can hold us here, but I will wither and die before your spell can carve it's way into me."

"You would rather die?" Tom arched a brow. "You would die and leave the future to Grindelwald and Dumbledore?"

"Maybe this is my fate." She jerked her hands and pulled him forward. "Maybe killing you would be enough."

"And if I don't die with you?" He smirked. "If I emerge from this chrysalis alone and angry? What chance will those people you want to protect stand against that monster?"

"We were discussing things to make our continued coexistence tenable." She jerked her shoulders in an effort to express herself. "Why would you do this? Why would you try to force me?"

"I wasn't forcing you." He forced his body to relax. "This is the obvious conclusion of our discussion."

"No." She shook her head and set her hair to bouncing about and igniting magical sparks around her like a halo. "This is a bonding, a magical marriage. You never mentioned wanting to marry me. You never asked."

"The bond will make us stronger. We will be facing Gellert Grindelwald soon. Every advantage is necessary. It's logical." He eyed her as she settled back on her heels without jerking him about. "Your time is gone, Hermione. This is where and when you are. You've accepted that, so why not accept me?"

"You didn't even discuss it with me." She took several deep breaths. "You've been designing this spell for some time. You planned this, but you never asked me."

"Do you want me to drop to one knee?" He scoffed. "Do you want me to pretend I feel things when you know I do not? This is the logical step for us."

"It's the logical step for you." She sighed and looked away from him. "If I give in, we will be married. I wanted that to mean something."

He watched as she wilted a bit more. There were aspects of her argument that weren't logical. He'd expected her to be as practical and logical about this as he was. He had never considered that she might have held onto some dim, romantic dreams of her girlhood. He tugged her closer and did his best to hold her gently against his chest.

"I should have considered your emotional needs." He took a deep breath and rested his chin on top of the pillow of her hair. "I will try to do so in the future."

"Why did you create this spell?" Hermione pressed her body in against his chest. "There are a plethora of spells to select from. Why did we need a special one?"

"Most of those spells require vows. Vows are inherently limiting. They define the relationship before it has a chance to fully form. I don't like limits." He considered how much honesty his witch could handle at the moment before continuing. "The more balanced spells focus on the creation of progeny. I can't provide you with children. The making of a horcrux comes at a price beyond the killing and the splitting of the soul. The creator is rendered infertile."

"Ask me." She pushed out from him and looked him straight in the eye. "Give me the illusion of choice."

Humoring her seemed pointless, but that odd discomfort faded when he considered it. It was such a small concession, really. He rolled up into his knees and looked into her eyes.

He felt his breath catch in his throat.

The truth of it was simple he'd designed the spell knowing she might not choose him. He'd never wanted to chance a refusal. She was important, vibrant, and interesting. She was also his equal in many ways. Her devotion to the notion of right and wrong was daft, but everyone had their flaws.

"I'm not given to flowery words." He shrugged one of his shoulders gently. "I know how to flatter and seduce, but I respect your mind and power too much to attempt such nonsense with you."

She frowned slightly but nodded. He considered that to be some slight approval. It would have to do.

"I've thought about keeping you since I first saw you. Your magic and your intelligence demand respect and only enhance your overall attraction." He watched her eyes narrow. "Rationally, you are a good choice, but that is not why I want to share my life with you. You are the first person in memory that tried to comfort me. Despite all of the horrible things I have done in your world, despite the monster you see in me, you still offered me kindness."

Hermione shuffled closer to him on her knees. He saw that telltale softening around her eyes. She was such a study of contradictions. A warrior with a soft heart, a powerful witch that preferred to do things the muggle way, a woman that loved and despised him in almost equal measure. everything he discovered about her was fascinating.

"I find myself wanting to be more human and more humane around you. It's clichéd and ridiculous." He licked his lips, finding himself oddly nervous. "It probably isn't a good reason for you to accede, but I think sharing our lives will better us both. I am here, on my knees, asking you to be mine as my wife and partner, as my equal."

"Did that last bit taste sour on your tongue?" She tilted her head.

"No." He yanked on their joined hands and brought her closer. "I think you owe me an answer."

"It's just an illusion of compliance." She smirked. "Why do you need it?"

"I don't know." He fought the urge to scream at her and vent his frustration with this nonsense in nonproductive ways. "Will you marry me?"

"I apparently already am." She lifted their hands with a smile. "So, yes, I will marry you."

The burning force of the spell mellowed around them with her consent. Something warm flowed out from her. He could feel it sliding along with the ferocity of her power. He tried to analyze it, but Hermione distracted him.

She pressed her lips to his. He could feel the lush warmth of her lower lip and slight curve of her narrower upper lip. For a moment he catalogued the physical sensation of having her so close, but then the magic flared to roaring life. He felt the world around them spin wildly as they became one. Their essence, their magic, and their souls fused.

He wouldn't tell her about that last bit. He didn't want to explain the necessity of it. She probably wouldn't want to find out that he had designed the spell to insure that she was as immortal as he was.


	5. Chapter 5

Marriage was not exactly as he'd imagined it. Tom frowned and watched as Hermione created a war room from her previous bedroom. She put cork boards on the walls and odd boards made of a glass like substance on stands. He watched as maps went up and stray historical dates appeared. The whole space was ordered and precise. There were color coded files for each operation. He had tried to open one and been more than a little frustrated to find she'd charmed the things for her eyes only.

Her agenda was clear. She wasn't content to destroy Grindelwald. She wanted to dismantle his organization piece by piece. She wanted to hurt the wizard and keep on hurting him.

This vengeful, ferocious side of his witch was quite intriguing, but she had no time for him. Her schedule was packed with a variety of tasks.

She brewed complex potions that he didn't recognize. She also brewed and stockpiled a variety of healing potions and salves. Some were quite obscure. She'd smacked his hand when he'd tried to help with the bottling.

He didn't much care for her attitude, but there was no end in sight.

She started hunting in the woods, but she wasn't bringing home anything useful. She had cages full of regular squirrels. She never killed the things. She fed them, but she did not give them cute names. It was all so very odd.

Her obsession with the muggle world was alarming. She collected papers from all over Europe. Clippings were added into files or stuck up on the cork boards. He hated not being able to see the larger picture.

He could see that she was executing a well thought out plan. His observational skills were not in question. She was preparing for battle, but she wasn't telling him a damn thing. She wasn't letting him help her in any way.

It was irksome.

She'd married him. She'd given her life into his keeping as he had given his into hers, but she wasn't ready to trust him. Manipulating her into the commitment had not laid the proper foundation.

He watched from inside the house as she returned from one of her hunting trips with several more squirrels. She looked quite remarkable in her dungarees and jumper. He felt his body quicken. They'd married, but she was in no hurry to consummate their union. After his misstep in forcing her into a permanent relationship, he was hesitant to push for more.

Each night she showered and joined him in their bed. Her body curled into his, and she slipped into slumber with ease.

He spent hours trying to ignore basic biological impulses.

It was frustrating to be thwarted on so many fronts.

"Are you going to tell me what you have planned?" He asked her over a hastily made dinner. "I might be of some assistance."

"Soon." She took a bite of her asparagus and glanced away from him.

It was enough and too much all at once. He felt the rush of negative emotions and let them fuel his power. The room darkened slightly and the candles flickered.

"Childish displays don't really encourage me to be forthcoming." Hermione ripped a piece of her bread free and popped it in her mouth. He watched as she chewed slowly. The witch was obviously trying to drive him mad. "You have the self control of an infant, and you want me to involve you in my plans. Perhaps, you're a bit more touched in the head than I imagined."

"You're still angry that I took away your illusion of choice. You are punishing me, and I won't have it." He sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. "I am your husband."

"Yes." She nodded. "You are my husband, but you are not my master. If you want to fight Grindelwald and me, please, continue on. I'll be happy to oblige you."

The thought of her standing against him with another wizard was too much. He felt his magic burning under his skin. She was his witch. He needed her to know it. He needed her to feel it. He needed her to bloody well accept it.

"You've focused on the battle, but what about our lives? What about after we defeat Grindelwald?" Tom watched her closely. "Do you have plans for that?"

"This isn't the time." She frowned. "Grindelwald isn't going to go quietly. He's built quite the little empire. We need to focus on the task at hand."

"You're focused. No one would ever doubt that." Tom rolled his eyes. "You're so devoted to your plan that you are forgetting the most important part."

"I am not." Hermione huffed, and her hair sparked as she pushed back from the table. "I have been working to get this right constantly."

"You've been twisting yourself up into a little cocoon of purpose." Tom sneered. "It's what you do. It's how you're avoiding facing the reality of us."

"I'm well versed in the reality of us." Hermione waved her hand dismissively. "I've seen what you do to the women that love you. More importantly, I've seen what loving you did to them."

"I'm not the monster you knew. I won't be. You've changed things." He pulled a deep breath in through his nose. "You've changed me."

"Wonderful." She stood up and carried her plate to the sink. "You're a changed man."

"I am a man, Hermione." Tom shoved his chair back and rose to his feet. "You don't seem to see it, but I am."

"Fine." She turned to face him, leaning back against the sink. "You're a man. I see that you are. I know that you are. I know you want me because I'm shiny and powerful. I know that you want to possess me. Your ceremony bound us up nice and tight. You have me."

"Do I?" He stalked toward her. The quick dart of her eyes over his body and the flash of her tongue as it wet her lips were welcome sights. She wasn't looking to escape him. "Do I have you?"

She nodded and met his gaze. The sparks in her hair were nothing to the latent glow of magic in her eyes. The flash of amber and citrine would have inspired poetic flights of fancy in a lesser man.

He cupped her cheek and closed the distance between them. The quick catch of her breath was gratifying. He pressed his body against hers; anchoring her between the cabinetry and his presence. He reveled in the soft flutter of her hands settling at his waist. This softness was his alone.

Bending his head and capturing her lips with his eased the coil of pain at his center. Her fingers tightened on his sides as he leaned into her. Her lips were lush and yielding. He broke free of them and trailed his own along her cheekbone to her temple. Each shuddering breath she took was a victory.

"You captured my imagination before I met you." He drew her scent in as he continued to press kisses along her hairline. "But nothing I created in my mind matches up with the reality of you." He stroked his hand down to her throat and rested his palm on her collarbone. "I don't want to change you. I want you."

Easing back from her, he stared down into her face. Her lips were parted and her pupils were dilated. The warm rose of desire bloomed on her cheeks. He fought down the urge to take her, to consume her. He wanted more than seduction between them.

"We are bonded." He traced a finger along her bottom lip. "And, we may have years ahead of us to explore and understand what that means, but we need to remember the importance of that bond now. You are not alone anymore."

"I'm not punishing you." Hermione turned her head away from his hand. "I need this to be my choice."

"I understand." Tom stepped back from her. He'd tricked her into the bond. He'd encouraged her to underestimate him. "You reap what you sow."

* * *

Hermione heard his words. She knew he was being critical of his own behavior, but her own actions were harmful. He might not be capable of love, but he was capable of feeling rejected and hurt. Tom Riddle's world had been formed in such a crucible. She closed her eyes and dragged a breath in through her teeth. Building the bond between them would give him stability. She entertained the possibility that she was falling into another trap. Her husband knew how to use his body and every other tool that came to hand. She licked her lips and examined him from beneath her lashes. She could spend eternity trapped in indecision, or she could be bold.

"You are my choice, Tom." She took a step toward him. "I needed some time to adjust to everything, but I don't need it anymore. I want this. I want us."

He scooped her up into his strong arms and held her tight against his chest. His kisses were gentle and urgent as he strode through their small home. She gave herself over to the moment. This wizard, this man, was hers. Trusting in his strength, she twisted in his arms and let her fingers roam over his body. She felt his magic rise up around them and tease at her flesh. The warmth of it licked across her skin as it divested her of clothing. She didn't care that her clothing was disappearing. She wanted it gone. She wanted all the barriers between them gone.

The slick softness of his skin against hers wasn't surprising. She felt her own magic swirling around them. They were beings of power. Their lives were joined and forged in magic. It made sense that magic, their magic, would be active as they moved towards consummation. Magic liked its rituals.

He placed her on their bed and joined her. The slide of suddenly silken sheets under her body was accompanied by the pleased quirk of his lips. His teeth and tongue teased along her shoulders as his hands traced along her body. She gasped as he pressed his mouth against her neck. She pushed her fingers into his hair and held him steady against her. He settled against her and through his leg over one of hers sliding his knee up to her thigh. She whimpered as his fingers teased her skin. He traced runes along her skin and fired them with his magic. Sensation took pride of place from sense. She felt mouths kissing, nibbling and biting her. Fingers trailed everywhere as he swirled one in an ever narrowing spiral around her breast.

His magic pressed her down into the down of their mattress. It held her in place for his amusement. it stroked over her as the barest whisper of heat and left tingling, aching flesh in its wake. She wanted to focus. She wanted analyze this power raging up from within them.

"Later, Hermione." He nipped her earlobe and released it. "Be here now. Be with me."

She panted as her magic joined his in the wild cascade of power around them. He pressed his fingers into the flesh above her womb. He whispered words in parseltongue as he slid along her skin. She felt something flaring deep within her. She felt something deep within her break as he poured his magic into her through his hand. She heard words as he continued to move along her skin. He was casting in parseltongue. She writhed against him as he took her to the knife's edge of bliss without joining her there.

She begged incoherently.

She whimpered.

She screamed his name again and again.

He wouldn't stop, and he wouldn't join her. She twisted beneath him and pressed her hand to his chest. She could feel his heartbeat in her fingertips. He was waiting, longing, begging for something. She could feel it. He was empty.

She let her magic fly. She pushed it through her hand, through his flesh into the essence of him. She hissed out words of loyalty and longing. She licked sigils along his skin and watched as they lit by the force of her will alone. The taste of his sweat, its salt and its power, pushed her further. She wanted more. She wanted to give him more.

The magic swirled around them with bits of spells and runes burning bright. Her own heart beat drowned out the sounds of his whispered spells. She rocked her body against his hip. She wanted more than this passion drugged magic. They were more than power. They were more than their magic. She clawed at him with her free hand and sobbed against his shoulder as he shifted his body over hers. His eyes flared with light as he dragged his hand free from her abdomen. She pulled her hand free of his chest and grabbed at the hand he'd just planted beside them. The lingering magic sparked as they wove their fingers together, but it didn't matter. She was caught in his eyes.

"You are mine." He smiled down at her. She felt a pang at his honesty. He didn't give her false words of love, and she knew he never would.

"I am." She raised her legs up slowly along the outside of his thighs until they came to rest on his hips. He rocked into her and settled his body fully against hers. A groan escaped her as he pushed into her at a glacial pace. Her back bowed up and she heard the odd babble of disconnected sounds and knew it to be her own. She twisted her free hand into the sheets beneath her.

"Goddess, you are beautiful." He pushed all the way into her. "I want to lay the world at your feet."

"I don't want the world." She shook her head slightly. "I just want you."

He dropped to his elbows and kissed her. It was sweet and gentle. She felt him tremble.

"I never, no one has ever, not me..." He pressed his forehead against hers.

"I do." She pushed her hips up into his and stroked his cheek with her fingers as he set a gentle pace. Their magic flowed around them and drifted in eddies as they urged each other toward completion. When it came upon them, she welcomed her magic back and rejoiced in the pieces of him that resided deep within her now.

He pulled her against his side and drifted off to sleep, but she lay beside him and stared up at the darkened ceiling. He would never love her. She knew that. She knew it for a fact, but it didn't matter because she had seen him break. she had seen how much it meant to him to be wanted by another being. She swallowed back her own tears. She wanted to keep him safe. He was twisted and more than a little evil, but he deserved a better fate than he'd been given. She turned her face in against his shoulder and splayed her hand over his heart.

He would never love her. She knew it. He simply wasn't capable of it.

Her heart broke even as it swelled.

He would never love her, but she would love him.


End file.
